


The Orc Who Came in the Cold

by Kanyayon



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, Female Orc - Freeform, Lesbian Sex, Orcs, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 22:04:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5718748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kanyayon/pseuds/Kanyayon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rakshar gra-Shura has heard the summon of the Greybeards. On the road to Ivarstead, night falls and she and Lydia must make camp. However the nights of Skyrim can be harsh even to its people, much less to one who has grown up in temperate Cyrodiil. Fortunately, Lydia might just have the trick to make the night a little warmer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Orc Who Came in the Cold

Several days ago, Darkwater Crossing was to be merely a stop on the road. Now, it is where I make camp for the night on the way to High Hrothgar. There is little reason to believe that the Imperial Legion might stay behind since their ambush was staged for a very specific purpose, but the threat of recapture lingers and works me up to a tiring cautiousness.

That I had finished eating dinner with the miners here without incident should be enough to assure me.

I loosen my gauntlets and boots and drop them on the corner with the rest of my armour that I had taken off earlier. If the water were even a bit warmer, I would wash my feet first before slipping on the heavy wool socks. At home in Cyrodiil, I would never think of going to sleep without washing clean first. Oddly -or perhaps not so - I feel justified with Lydia doing the same. If even a nord finds the water too frigid to wash their feet with, I can surely be excused.

“Good night,” I tell her as I slip into the furs of my sleep roll.

“You too, my Thane.” She opens the lantern and blows out the flame. All is dark.

And cold.

Very cold.

The leaves outside have not stopped rustling. The north wind has kept up a mild restless flow since morning. I should not expect it to let up easily, it is its season after all.

This is too cold!

I creep out of my covers and reach across Lydia for the lantern to place by my side. Then, directing a flicker of fire magic, I set the wick alight.

Would the more traditional of orcs consider me weak for not already taking well to Skyrim’s climate? How ironic that city orcs are considered pariah by the rest of the Pariah Folk.

“Something wrong?” Lydia asks.

“Oh, nothing.” I turn to her. “Sorry to have woken you. I should have bought two smaller tents instead.”

“You don’t have to apologise, my Thane.” She sits up. “I am sworn to protect you, and I will do so even if it is from the chill.”

“You have a warming spell? I thought you don’t use magic!”

“No I don’t,” she shakes her head, “but I can help warm you up on a night like this.”

“That would be welcome.”

She slips out of her bedroll, and sheds her fur vest then her linen underclothes, revealing all of the muscularity her thick arms imply. Though the bodies of both orcs and nords are naturally inclined towards the sinewy, Lydia’s powerful physique is etched with a tale of the intense training and conditioning that comes with achieving martial greatness.

It is a tale I too know very well.

But all my respectful admiration is quickly giving away to something else. Seeing Lydia bare naked is inspiring lusty thoughts in my head and stiring something primal in my loins.

“I need you to undress as well, Thane.” She says.

A hotness flush into my cheeks. I say, “You do?”

“Yes. The best way to share body heat is with skin contact.”

“Oh.”

Facing away, I shed all the layers on me. My nipples were already hard when clothed and are even harder now that they are exposed. I accidentally brush against them as I hug myself. The sudden surge feels really nice.

Lydia steps in and takes me into her arms, draws us both to lie in a single bedroll. The fur blankets that we share between us, she piles them one over the other over our enbracing bodies. “Is this better?” She asks.

“Yes,” I nearly moan. This closeness is only encouraging to my urges, and its making me blush even harder in embarassment. In truth, I am still cold under the waist but I shall not mention it. However, Lydia seems to sense this as she then prods a knee between my thighs and entwine then when I do not resist.

It is only when my legs part that I realise -acutely- how wet I am.

There is no possibility that she does not notice. Keeping quiet will not do. “Lydia,” I break off from her, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“As you wish, my Thane.” Surprisingly, she smiles playfully. “But just so you know, I would do it if you want.”

“Do what?”

“Fuck you, of course!”

I blink. “That’s not part of a housecarl’s duties, right?”

“No. I find you quite fetching, is all.”

“Few find orcs fetching,” I muse. So many nights spent sleeping alone even in multicultural Cyrodiil.

“Not as few as you’d think.” Lydia leans in. Under the blankets, a hand comes to rest on my hip. “Though many are usually as intimidated as the rest.”

“Well, since you’re willing…” I grab her shoulders and roll myself on top. “But I am not your Thane tonight, alright?”

“Yes, Rakshar.”  
She runs her hand up my abs to my breasts. The calluses on her palm and fingers are rough againts against my teats but the gentleness of her massaging gives it a nice tingling quality. She then brings her other hand to my other breast.

Much as I want to give in to the sensations pulsing through my chest, I cannot let Lydia do all the work. I start running a thigh up and down against her groin. She is not very wet, maybe not yet, but I can feel her clit swelling from the friction. Her gasps begin light, getting more and more pronounced as I continue rubbing on her.

Her massaging gets less vigorous, so she moves her hands to squeeze on my butt while a broad smile on her. Then she lightens the pressure, so I go slow, letting her recovery until she pushes me to plow hard again. Harder and harder, her breathing quicker and quicker till it drops into a long moan. Warmness spurts onto my thigh as she does.

In the wake of her pleasure, Lydia’s face is left with a glow. I want to kiss her, but I might poke her cheeks with my tusks. It is better if she kisses me instead.

“Tell me honestly,” I say, “did you suggest we sleep naked and cuddled together so that we can have sex?”

“No, I take my oath seriously.” When she says that, her expression becomes the one usual of her. Then she smiles again. “But I am glad that the thane I serve is someone I would fuck.”

“Is it proper for a housecarl to speak so vulgarly to her thane?”

“Oh Rakshar,” she purrs my name, “shut up and lie down.”

I do as she says. She lays on her side, snug against me, and slip two fingers down my flower, purposefully avoiding the bud.

“Please,” I whipser, “I’m worked up already.”

In response, she clamps her mouth over my teat, flicking it with her hungry tounge. The burning need within me starts flaring up immediately. And then she squeezes my clit, sending a jolt throughout that collects in all my sensitive parts. Finally, she puts her fingers into me.

Having my nipple licked and sucked on, my clit squeezed and rub, and having my vagina fucked all at once builds up quickly into a climax that leaves me hot and wet with sweat and juices of orgasm. I pant heavy as I catch the air back and once I have calmed, a wave of much-needed drowsiness washes over me.

Lydia blows out the lantern. Once more, I feel her strong embrace and I return it to her. Perhaps it would be wise to consider how our relationship has been affected by what we have done, though for now I do not care. All I want, this moment, is for her to fall asleep in my arms and me in hers.


End file.
